I note that that vain and posturing vagabond Amos brazenly came forth from the shadows in which he skulks and siezed the virgin body of the 39,000th post and took it for his own in a flagrant display of public grandstanding that would have embarrassed Mussolini. Dreadful. The man is simply shameless. And that is why Shane McBride should go and visit him in San Diego, stay for a month, drink all his beer, and leave dirty, filthy socks and old pizza crust strewn on the floor beside the couch opposite the TV.... ;-)

Rapaire and I, on the other hand, being true gentlemen of excellent breeding and sober demeanour, did not flaunt ourselves in that fashion, but stood humbly aside as the 39,000th post came and went. And Amos interprets that as us losing count?????? Oh, the presumption of the man! He assumes that others are as vainglorious as he. Thus has it ever been with mountebanks, tyrants, and poseurs. Verily, the man waxeth most vexatious, but his thunderous posturings shall lead, I fear, to a humbling denoument.

Actually, Amos took...nay, stole...38,100. But as Mom says, "As the path has wound behind, so too it gives you a good idea of how it's going to wind in front of you." True, he thinks he's made off with 39,000 but that is simply not the case.

Ah, well. He'll probably throw a tantrum and hold his breath until he turns blue and then Mom will give him a swat on the seat of his pants and a time-out. As she also says, "Those that cannot learn must learn to feel."

Little Hawk, I think you need to review Basic Decimal. I tried to point this lout in my poeti, kindly, gentlemanly post # 38,100. But you ignored the clue. So let me offer you this insight: 38,000 plus 100 is 38,100.

See?

We still have 900 to go before you need tyo worry about that Great Kay.

In case you ren't following the Song Challenge threads, Mom, there was a story wherein a guy explained to the police that he had been stopped on his bicycleby two people in gorilla costumes and one in a big chicken outfit, and he had been knocked in the head by one of the gorillas, and the chicken and ridden off on his bike. True story.

So we wrote some songs about it, and here's mine:

The Chicken, and Gun the Gorilla, and Me

I was lying around in the Westchester zoo With the other gorillas, with not much to do When a teenage gorilla the others called Gun Came up and asked if I wanted some fun Well the Zoo, it was boring, and I had me no mate, And there's nothing to do there if you're staying up late Gun sounded excited, Gun sounded like fun, So I said I would join him on a getaway run.

CHO: Oh, that night on the run, Oh, that night on the run! We went up on the east side and down on the west For wild nights on foot, this sure was the best, Oh, that night on the run.

Well we distracted the warden and made our escape We flew over the guard wall and climbed over the gate And the next thing ya know, with the moon still half-down We're running the highway that leads into town. Well we galloped along, just smelling the breeze Two wild-ass gorillas, as bare as you please, Past farm yards and barn yards and dogs in their pen, We were zoned out on freedom, and guess what happened then!

CHO.

We stopped for a breather, as the evening was hot Outside of a bar in a big parking lot, We'd have gone for a brew, but we hadn't no dough, And they don't give free beer to gorillas, you know. So we idled around, in the cool evening air Just glad to be out, without much of a care, When a big bird walked up looking sassy and cute, Some guy from a ball team, in a big chicken suit!

CHO.

Well we three got to talking, and he was purdy impressed That his two new companions had escaped from the rest, He sprang for a twelve-pack and we sat on the ground Just knocking back Coorses and passing them around. His name was Chinchester, or that's what he said And he was sick of the view from that big chicken head, But he'd taken the role on a cheerleading squad Just to pay for the rent while he got right with God.

CHO.

We were all getting snookered, from drinking that beer And Gun the Gorilla, he spoke out, "Look here, You can't get right with God while you're dressed like a bird It's purely unnacherl and completely absurd!" And Chinch, he allowed as my pal Gun was right, He would quit the damn cheerleaders, that very night! He would go to a center he knew in Duluth And sign up as a monk, and foreswear his wild youth.

He would give up his drinking, and swearing and hype, And hanging out in strange places with bestial types He'd confess all his sins, and turn honest and nice And take up the vows of a brother-in-Christ. Well this notion made Chinc a revitalized man, And he said, "Let's get down there as fast as we can" But we didn't have a license, being simian, you see And we hadn't no wheels for a long highway spree.

We sat and we pondered, and tried to connive But Chinch, he confessed he didn't know how to drive, And Duluth was a long way down that highway of dreams, And then Gun the Gorilla came up with a scheme. He said "Boys, every morning on the side roads around, There's newsboys on bikes crossing all over town! We'll grab us a newsie and his bike we will steal, And send Chinch to glory on a new set of wheels!"

Well, we found us a nearby suburban milieu And a newsboy on duty soon came rolling through And Chinch in his outfit, and us in our fur Jumped out of the bushes and made quite a stir. Well Gun hit him once, and he dropped like a stone And we helped Chinch climb up on that bike all alone, And we sent him off wheeling even though he was drunk, Toward Duluth, and God, and the life of a monk.

So then Gun the Gorilla and me, we made tracks, 'Cuz the sun was arising, and we had to get back, And we loped up the highway, and at six twenty-two, We climbed over the entrance gate back at the zoo. We sneaked back to our cave, with our heads all abuzz And curled up in our sleeping spots just as we was, But I'll never forget that wild midnight spree, With the Chicken, and Gun the Gorilla, and me.

CHO.

Oh, that night on the run, Oh, that night on the run! We went up on the east side and down on the west For wild nights on foot, this sure was the best, Oh, that night on the run.

THAT? Epic? Why, that li'l ol' limerick ain't no more than a advertisin' rhyme, just a jingle. Now if you want EPIC, you gotta think epic. You gotta BE epic. You gotta feel it inside your very being. You gotta become epic in every fiber of your being.

That gives you a lot of time to train him out of his egregious egoism, LH, and perhaps into some ordinary courtesies as well, such as not invading a thread to which he has contributed next to nothing and grabbing the numbers. It's crude, boorish, flatulent behavior.

Like many, but not all, Canadians. The Shame of the McBrides, for example, still has to remember that clothing gets in the way of his natural functions, and the certainty of this changing during his so-called lifetime approaches zero.

I have tried to talk Shane into trying out a 1 month stay at a local nudist camp in hopes that he would learn basic hygeine and other valuable social skills there, but so far he has rejected the idea. When he realized that it wouldn't be just him and a lot of "hot babes" there, he chickened out.

Shatner recently turned down the chance to be Governor General of Canada....the direct representative of Her Majesty the Queen. That tells you just how august he is. He dwells at an Olympian level that few can appreciate and almost none can aspire to. He possesses ineffable qualities that cannot be expressed in human language, but only grasped by the silent heart. He looms large upon the land.

MOM knows about your children, but do your children know about MOM? Did they hear you whooping it up as you read through the early posts, or did you read quietly, keeping this world a discrete place in your life?

That same thing used to happen to my grandfather regularly, Rapaire. Specially on Saturday or Sunday mornings after carousing into the wee hours with his dissolute mates at the U of T faculty. Don't worry! It will pass.

Little Hawk wakes up to find he has become a beautiful woman. This transformation becomes hellish as he gradually discovers he must now reject all his lascivious imaginary playmates. It ruins his life.

They came and read over my shoulder sometimes when I was laughing too hard to stop them, but for the most part they thought it was all totally boring. No loud noises, few animated parts, nothing but (to their minds) poetry and adult stupidity. It's the best kept secret on the Web.

I did show Tom a run of posts when the boys fought a duel. He was intrigued, so I had to take evasive measures. This isn't the type of thing a twelve-year-old should read in his spare time. He could probably figure out the vocabulary but it would rob him of innocence a bit early. Mostly the fellows just got used to my wheezing with suppressed laughter and paid me no mind.

Rapaire, the "problem" you mention would be no problem at all for me. I'd get into a lesbian affair with Penelope Rutledge in a heartbeat. ;-) Penelope may be a bit of a snob, but she's definitely got an attractive aspect and she also has a good deal of character and lots of courage.

I have no trouble imagining being a woman. It would be as easy as changing into another set of clothing. That's why I am always rather bemused (if not astounded) on the rare occasions when some misguided individual on this forum accuses me of some form of male chauvinism. It has happened once or twice. When it does, they're only seeing the chip on their own shoulder reflected in the great mirror of life, but they're not seeing me.

I think it's absolutely cool to be either a man or a woman. Wonderful possibilities. Certainly nothing to complain about in either case...

Would Winona be able to successfully dress for the day from your closet, LH? Better keep a few slim belts, at the very least, so she can at least keep the jeans on. T-shirts are so commonly unisex they should be fine.

I do have some sandals. Awhile back I bought a pair of women's leather boots that fit me, because all the boots in the men's section were so damn ugly and clunky looking that I couldn't find any I liked there. ;-) I'm not too impressed by the shoe styles that are being offered lately. About the only people who seem to make real shoes and boots any longer are the Italians.